


Calling Mycroft

by Nirvs (nirvanad)



Series: Nirvs' ficlets [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mycroft IS the British Government, obviously, somethime in s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirvanad/pseuds/Nirvs
Summary: Me a normal person calling a favor from the British government.





	Calling Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> I created this in november-ish, inspired by imaginemycroftholmes, who published the simple  
> "Imagine calling a favor from Mycroft Holmes"  
> so I did imagine and wrote this little one.

It’s been two weeks looking at that phone number. Six years ago Rob Boyle gave me that number after I denied any payment for his brief stay in my house, here in Brazil, saying that it was a onetime ticket for anything that I could want from the British government. I didn’t believe him by the time, but now, with only one recommendation away from a position in the Tate Museum of London I press the call in my phone.

Shouldn’t even works right? This old number? And the call completes. Starts call, one ...

Shouldn’t be nothing dangerous right? British government my ass. Two…

I’m so dumb, of course never gonna work. And someone picks.

“Congratulations new art curator of Tate museum. May I pay a visit at the place after you settle there. Brazilians Naïf works always pleases me deeply.”

“How you… what? Wait who are-”

“If you don’t believe me Miss Oliveira, please check your email. But before that, may I ask you what have you done for our mutual acquaintance to worth this number?”

“Oh, I swear, it was nothing, he stayed with me for three days, but I barely knew he was here. Rob just slept all the day and then ate a little when he woke up, nothing more.”

“I beg to differ Miss Oliveira, was the most impressive of things. So alarming, that may I ask what your house looked like by the time?”

“My house?”

“Yes, your little tropical palace Miss Oliveira, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t unders-”

“Oh, Tate looks great just like it is, don’t you think?”

“I lived in a little apartment, by the time all my furniture was mismatched. I had a couch, two different armchairs tough the leather one was too big. I was finishing my master degree so the place was really a mess with books everywhere, at least I has conditioner. Oh, I was broking with a dumb violinist. When Rob tell me that he was a fugitive from Colombia, the bastard vanished leaving the dam thing and several music sheets. A mess really, but chaining to me.”

“Nothing, you say, nothing indeed. See you in Tate.”

“WAIT!!”

“Pressing matters require me attention Miss.”

“I own you my new life, but please tell how is he? He seemed so lonely, looked like a ghost.”

“You may see for yourself when you move to London. The address is 221b Baker Street. I believe you will know another man, very much alive.”

“I didn’t know your...” _name_ , the line goes dead. Now that’s the voice of the British Government.

 


End file.
